


If He Wanted To

by rispacooper



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Comment Fic, First Time, Intoxication, M/M, Sexual Identity, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-02
Updated: 2012-04-02
Packaged: 2017-11-02 23:15:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/374447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rispacooper/pseuds/rispacooper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"And I was going to be nice to you and everything, maybe jot down a little something with Morgan teasing Reid, in his space, and then sort of getting carried away and nuzzling his neck a little bit, and how both of them would freeze, Morgan panicking inside, dying a bit, and then Reid would grab his shirt when he tries to back up and play it off. Not pulling him closer, not yet, but not letting him leave. Then he'd look up."</p>
            </blockquote>





	If He Wanted To

**Author's Note:**

  * For [plainapple](https://archiveofourown.org/users/plainapple/gifts).



> Another long lost commentfic.

It was a stupid thing to do. Derek had been aware of that, but teasing Reid was something he’d been doing for far too long to stop now without it becoming noticeable, and the pretty boy had been moping by himself in one corner of the club for a good hour now and when he did that, Derek thought of it as his responsibility to snap him out of it. 

He didn’t question why. Derek had learned early on that sometimes it was safer not to ask questions until you were ready for the answers, and he had a feeling, a tight, nervous feeling in the pit of his stomach, that if he asked himself why he had to jump in to save Reid the way he never did for any of his other teammates, that the answer would consume him. 

It was bad enough now, how he couldn’t fully enjoy himself in the club knowing that Reid was miserable, or uncomfortable, or lonely, all alone over there. This was supposed to be a fun night out, something to get the kid to loosen up, get out of his head, but like clockwork, every time a girl did notice just how pretty the pretty boy was and came over to talk to him, Reid would bore her to death with statistics or frighten her off with that mind of his, profiling her out loud. 

Derek wasn’t sure about that either. Reid was as smart as they come. Smarter. Smarter than Gideon or Hotch, for sure smarter then Derek. Reid caught on to anything without even trying, but trying to get him to loosen up around women was starting to feel like a losing battle and that made no sense. 

One fact was starting to become painfully evident; if Reid wanted to, he’d have the hang of it by now. If Reid wasn’t picking up women, it was because he didn’t want to.

If Reid wanted, the thought bounced around in Derek’s head again as he hovered, hesitated, and then bent down with his mouth to the shell of Reid’s ear and Reid’s hair tickling his face. 

The noise level in here was off the charts. That was why Derek had leaned in, if not why he’d been smiling, or why he’d pitched his voice low. Reid had angled his head up, trusting him or out of habit, probably assuming Derek had had something important to tell him. Now he was stuck like that, like a statue, something old and made of marble, except a hell of a lot warmer. 

Reid had been drinking, they both had, though not much. He’d stumbled a little, with disbelief possibly, when Derek had smirked and asked if he needed a wingman or if his plan was to leave alone tonight. He might have been hurt, but somehow he hadn’t seemed hurt as he’d recovered, tossing his hair back so that it hit Derek in the face and a few strands stuck to his mouth, and then starting to tell him about how he’d been studying the club culture, as though it were a matter of anthropological interest and not a place to get laid. 

Or at least both. 

Derek had shook his head, not pulling Reid’s hair from his lips like he should have, not moving away like he should have, telling himself it was the music in here and ignoring the humming tension in his stomach as a familiar knot formed there, as that knot began to unravel. 

“Reid, this isn’t about that right now.” He shouldn’t have had to explain it. Reid should have known it. He should have had women lining up to explain it to him, not just Derek, chuckling against his ear. “This place is about sex. You do know what that is, don’t you?” 

Because he’d been close, he’d seen Reid swallow, he’d seen the faint trace of color on his face, even in dim club lighting. He’d wet his mouth, and Derek had felt an echo in his own lips, a sudden burning awareness that he’d just whispered “sex” against the soft skin of Reid’s neck. 

And it was, Derek thought again, suddenly back in the moment, sharply, painfully, back in the moment of tense, heavy breathing and close physical contact between their bodies and the knot of fear, fear of Reid, in his stomach, and then Reid’s skin almost at his mouth. That skin was soft. So soft. Like a woman’s, except not, because Derek could see stubble, like even the brilliant Dr. Reid missed spots while shaving. 

“Do you ever notice how interested you are in getting laid?” Reid swallowed again, mumbled, and Derek paused though he should have been trying to laugh again, to play it off. He failed, because his mouth was still on Reid’s skin, and he wasn’t moving, and this joke was going a little far, even for him. 

“Specifically, in getting _me_ laid?” Reid elaborated, seeming surprised at hearing his own words, and that was what it took to make Derek finally pull back. Not enough, his brain, that fear of being overpowered were screaming for him to move back more, to get away, but his body wasn’t having it. He was close, finally close, and his body wouldn’t let him go now. He _wasn’t_ leaving, wasn’t running fast and far to protect himself like he had as a kid, when it had worked. 

But as he was now he could breathe, breathe warm, Reid-scented air. He’d never consciously noticed that Reid had a scent, but he did, pleasant and mild and _full_ , somehow, like an old, favorite book. 

Derek was shivering, aware of it on some level in the same way he was aware that Reid felt hot. Wearing a sweater vest to a club, that was his genius. 

_His_ genius. Derek panicked but the thought was there now, front and center, louder than the music. There was no ignoring it anymore. But he reached out to push Reid away only to feel his hands tightening around Reid’s clothes, at his back, to grab him and pull him closer, just to hold him and keep him within arms’ reach. 

He didn’t, couldn’t, want Reid for himself, he tried to think it but the thought slipped away. He couldn’t want Reid, not like that, but he didn’t want Reid to go either. 

It occurred to him in same flashing, frozen few seconds, that then _he_ should leave, but that he wasn’t, and neither was Reid. Reid, his genius who was just watching him. 

Derek was still shaking, full body shudders slowing to minute tremors the longer Reid was this close and silent. Genius might be pretty like a girl but he wasn’t a girl, and that time in Derek’s life was over. Should have been over. That was something right for other people but not for him, because wanting it was tied up in a lot of fear and hurt. Disgust that was wrong to exist, but still there when he thought about it, tried to talk about it. The childhood belief—however mistaken—that Carl had somehow known what Derek had wanted with other boys and that’s why it had happened. 

It wasn’t true, but until Reid that, everything Derek sometimes still wanted, had been easy to ignore, push aside, move on from. Reid, who was going to see everything now, profile him in seconds like he was one of the women approaching him in this dark corner. 

If Reid had wanted those women, he could have had them. If Reid had wanted those women, he wouldn’t need Derek around so much. By himself, alone in this corner, unappreciated, Reid was still his.

The selfishness in his own thoughts, even though he had only just realized them, almost made him sick. He wanted to blame Reid and couldn’t, wouldn’t, but it would have been easy to. Reid was remarkable, the kind of person to make people forget their own rules. Anyone might feel this way toward Reid, it didn’t necessarily mean anything about the rest of him and any other desires he might have. That’s what he wanted to think, except he knew it wasn’t true. 

He wanted Reid, he’d wanted Reid, he’d still want Reid, but it had nothing to do with who Derek was inside. Reid was just too good for him to deny it to himself any longer. 

Derek held still, terrified but refusing to run, as Reid slowly turned his head to study him more directly. And he _was_ being studied, there was no denying that. Reid thought too fast at times for his expressions to be fully read, but Derek could see enough. And clenched his jaw, biting back explanations, apologies. 

It only got worse when no judgment crossed Reid’s face. Reid frowned, then opened his mouth as the scowl cleared and he let out one small, quiet sound. No judgment or anger, not from the pretty boy, only momentary confusion and then understanding, and then oh God, Reid moved his head back down to where it had been, putting Derek’s mouth at his ear and with his body suddenly on fire with everything Derek had spent years telling himself he didn’t want, the small touch was deadly. 

He thought Reid was glancing down, readying some speech about it was all okay, giving Derek some examples, some numbers to make it all better, processing the way that Reid processed everything. But then the knot in Derek’s stomach broke away, broke apart, melted into about a thousand pieces when Reid sucked in a breath and pulled that luscious bottom lip between his teeth and slid his hand around to the small of Derek's back. 

Derek had worn a simple black t-shirt to go out. Reid’s slender fingers spread wide over it only to curl up again, taking some of the shirt with them, and though Reid still wasn’t quite touching his bare skin, Derek wanted to close his eyes. He couldn’t, he knew he couldn’t, not with Reid looking up at him now through his ridiculously long eyelashes and that beautiful hint of a blush in his pale cheeks. 

He had to speak, to say something, but “Pretty boy?” came out in a voice too shaky and low, a dead giveaway, even for Reid who had missed so much so far. They both had, Derek couldn’t blame him there. 

Reid immediately looked up, _really_ looked up at him, and then released his bottom lip. It was wet, red. Derek wasn’t drunk, but he’d had enough to know what he wanted was all over his face. 

He’d honestly never meant for this to happen, he tried to say it, as an apology maybe for not doing it sooner, but his throat was locked tight. Reid shrugged when he didn’t speak, a tiny bit nervous or maybe just anxious, and curled his hand that last little inch so that his fingers spread hot over the skin of Derek’s back. 

Derek shut his eyes and buried his head into Reid’s neck, not daring to do anything but let Reid hear his harsh breathing. He wasn’t shaking anymore, not with the heat from Reid’s fingers stroking patterns into his back in awkward but soothing circles. Reid wasn’t used to physically comforting others, wasn’t used to comforting Derek in this way at all, but he’d learn if he wanted to, he’d learn a hell of a lot faster than anyone else if he wanted to, and he must have, because he didn’t stop. 

“Derek,” Reid murmured at last, swallowing back something else, and gasping, surprised but willing, when Derek turned to nuzzle that smooth, pretty skin, real and flushed.


End file.
